Through the Eyes of Lucy: Living With Schizophrenia by Abioye Peju

‘Blue fruit?’ To my utter amazement, blue fruit; did I see, on turning my head to the right.

I visibly restrain myself from plucking off one of the fruits, as I hold on to my right hand with my left.

Collins laughed.

He’s the friendliest of the voices I hear. Not like those mean, nameless ones – gossiping ceaselessly about me. I do not intend to discuss them now – I am late for class.

I scurry onto class with the last ounce of willpower I possess. I am really late!

As I walk into class, my eyes meet the curious eyes of an obviously interesting teacher.

The others turn back to look at me.

To worsen the situation; the mean voices begin to discuss. They just never got tired.

‘I don’t blame them for looking at her with such contempt’, the obese male said.

How do I know he is obese? The quality of his voice; he has a certain buoyancy to his voice which I’m sure you would recognize if you met him or heard him speak.

‘Of course she is a very unreliable student.’

I really do not have to reply their grotesque remarks now, do I?

I walk briskly, painfully aware of the eyes trailing me as I walk to the front of the class, where the only available empty seat is located.

‘Your name is Lucy, yeah?’

A nod in the negative from me.

‘You had better agree to it; you definitely wouldn’t like the alternative name.’

He said, a glimmer in his eyes.

A slight nod in the affirmative, this time.

‘Good’.

He grinned

‘I would have called you Lucifer.’

Collins whispers in my ear:

‘Calm down, It’s only a prank, ok?’

I smiled.

‘Thanks, Collins’ I whisper back

‘Remember those stacked tables, the ones we saw across the dining hall?’

‘Collins, please, I need to focus on this class for now’

Now, he was sulking. I didn’t just feel it; I knew it!

Right now, he had resorted to removing my thoughts- how do I explain this …well, it seemed like he was sucking out thoughts from my brain.

‘Collins?’ I whisper. No answer.

‘Collins?’ A slight shuffling within me.

‘I’m sorry. Please?’

He smiled. ‘Ok…ok’

‘We’d talk later yeah?’

‘Of course.’

The lecturer was standing in front of me, arms akimbo. What have I done, this time?

‘Lucy, can’t you hear me?’

I stuttered. ‘…Sir?’

‘Do you have tardive dyskinesia, or why do your lips keep moving?

ABOUT ABIOYE PEJU

Abioye Peju is a final year medical student of Bowen University, with a palpable passion for writing. She is an ardent believer that behind every medical case, is a story itching to be told. She writes at medicology101.blogspot.com